Hearts Are Made For Breaking

Another morning of cold rain greeted the city of San Francisco as I made my commute back to the Mission. Because of the weather, I found all of the preschool students sitting down to watch a movie since they couldn't play outside. The same child who wept about not being able to go to drama class last week had to be encouraged to join me today and leave the film behind. Can't say I blamed him, the movie was about dinosaurs!

Once we settled into class one little boy shouted out, "Teacher Ashley! I'm growing!" To which I asked, "You are! Do you think I'm growing too?" He firmly replied, "No." I joking then asked if he thought I would grow taller, if my feet would get bigger, and if he believed my heart could become larger. He then, in the most matter of fact tone, said, "You're going to break your heart. And then you're going to cry." "Um, yeah, been there done that, kid, but do we have to bring it up..." is what I should have asked but before I could muster out a word another little boy walked over to be and said gently, "Here is a new one." And he placed his small hand near my chest. As if the gesture couldn't get sweeter, he then said, "And here's some ice cream!" The rest of the class followed him and gave me "hearts" and "ice cream cones". It's an incredible feeling to know that if I allow my heart to be broken, I now have a surplus of extra ones to get me through and a never ending supply of ice cream to ease the pain.

Dinosaur Robot Music Ears

Thursday mornings mark the final class for my outreach preschool weekly schedule. (Don't worry, I still teach other classes outside of this program.) And there's no better place to celebrate than in the Outer Richmond district.

The kids at this location are probably the most affectionate preschoolers out of the bunch. This is the school that provided me my first bite from a student and I'm pretty sure I've very unwillingly managed to find myself at second base on more than one occasion with some of these eager young tykes.

Often I split my time between three groups ranging from 2 - 5 years of age. Since this particular school had shown an interest in penguins (perhaps thanks to the foggy nature of the Richmond?!) I picked a story to work on today involving a misunderstood penguin. The black sleep of penguins, if you will. Sadly, the kids were not impressed with this selection and began feeling a little restless. When this happens, I will usually ask them to please turn up their listening ears and make sure their looking eyes are on. I have sound effects for both.

Today, one of the little girls looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. I left my ears at my mom's house today." To which I replied, "It's okay, do you want to borrow mine?" She nodded her small head and I placed "my listening ears" into her palm. She "put them on" and I asked if she could hear me better and if she was ready to start listening to our story. She answered, "No, I can't hear you. There's dinosaur robot music playing in there."

Oh, how forgetful of me! I didn't turn off my dinosaur robot music! Unfortunately for me, the tune didn't help her to enjoy the story. When we then began to dramatize the tale, she told me that she would not be participating because she "didn't like the book enough." Ah, well. Perhaps next time she can borrow my teeth... so she can lie through them.